You, Me, and Everything
by peachtree3
Summary: Nesta and Cassian in different settings and different times trying to learn to live and love again. Or Nessian One-shot compilation! One one-shot everyday
1. Your Favorite Part

Chapter 1: Your Favorite Part

"Morningrise" by Audiomachine

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 **This is a compilation of one shots inspired by ACOWAR and everything after. Hope you like it and stay tuned for the rest of them :) Also let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see. Thanks so much and Happy Reading!**

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Maybe it was the glass towering over her like giants walking the Earth, or the way the structures twisted into knots so intricate they could never be untied. She thought it must have been the way the opal statues guarded the castle like mighty lions, or the clouds and how they bowed to the magnificence before them.

Even as Nesta turned around and around and back again, to view everything she had already seen, it still left her with little air to breathe. As if some great beast had shown her all the dreams she lied awake envisioning.

Everything about this city, how the ocean touched the shores in whispered kisses, how the air felt like silk beneath her fingertips, made her want to sing. Made her heart light and her eyes heavy. Because at one point she wanted to cry.

Nesta had always wanted this. To see the world.

And maybe this wasn't all to be seen, maybe this was just the edge of something greater and grander than she had ever witnessed, but it was enough. Enough to start a fire that could never dim.

She had not been born with wings, had not been gifted them when she was made, but right here, right now she felt like she was flying.

"What's your favorite part?" Cassian said with a smile on his lips. As if every joy he had seen was hidden beneath the awe she inspired. As if he hadn't made her heart ring with the sound that thrummed throughout the city.

He had taken her to this place, a place she would remember well past the moment they left. It was etched beneath her skin, made a home where she thought her heart should be. He had wanted to adventure with her, had wanted to share this marvel with her.

"You."

She looked out into the sunset, beautiful and breathtaking all in one gulp of air. The light shined upon the rooftops making gems out of clay tiles. A light encasing her in warmth so magnificent her wings fluttered in the breeze. She looked into his hazel eyes swirling with wonder and magic.

"You."

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 **This is the start of a very long one shot compilation and I hope ya'll stay with me in this journey. The next one will be uploaded tomorrow. I'm challenging myself to write one fic every day so stay tuned. Happy Reading! If you have any ideas let me know! I'm sure I'll run out eventually.**


	2. Read to Me

Chapter 2: Read to Me

"Heaven Knows" by Hillsong

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 **I had a really hard time this year, but this fandom is the best and everyday I was reading great fanfiction and funny comments and It honestly got me through. So I want to thank sparkleywonderful for being the greatest friend a fanfic writer and person in general could ask for, stripesandpolkadot for helping me when it was needed the most and then becoming a person I hope to get to know more of propshophannah, illyriantremors, laviperagentile, getalittlecountry and every other writer who are literally fantastic people who write amazingly in every way. Thanks for the inspiration and the happy times! You are all rays of light shining through my window. :)**

 **I don't know where the sap came from (shrugs)**

 **"Heaven Knows" by Hillsong**

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The fire crackled in the night, awakening embers that lit the room in breathtaking flames. Filtering their home with the smell of pine and vanilla. A scent so familiar to him, it was embedded in his clothes and every little thing he carried with him.

She was sitting in an armchair, big enough to seat him that it had swallowed her frame. Her blue nightgown brought out the blue of her irises, like forget-me-nots in the breeze. She had waited for him like she always did, amid the darkness and the orange glow.

Her relaxed stance told him she had been sitting there for a while, a thought that made the furrow of his eyebrows calm into smooth skin. The healer had told her she shouldn't be walking for long periods of time. Not until she was stronger, until they were stronger. He could hardly contain his excitement and she knew.

Her face lit up in sunshine and stardust as she saw him, made him believe the world was good and pure and happy. He couldn't possibly believe anything else when she looked at him like that, as if he was a gift so precious she was going to keep and cherish him forever.

"You're back." She spoke. Voice as loud as a whisper, with a love so soft he could touch it, rub against it.

Her hands laid softly on her rounded stomach, and Cassian couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He ambled towards her, kissing her on the lips and rubbing her belly hello.

A long time ago, he believed the only purpose he had was in wielding blades and punching fists—to be stronger than any one. That was all he was good for, all he was good at. Cassian couldn't deny his existence, any more than he could deny his love for her. But somehow, in some way he had gotten to meet her. The wildfire he'd call his mate and wife.

He still didn't always believe it, didn't think he deserved her. Nesta had walked into his life and lighted the way. Despite being ready to burn everyone who managed to be near her, all she ever did was make him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"What do you want to read today, my love?" His voice rough and low.

Nesta hummed to herself, a beautiful, soft sound that caused his heart to settle in his chest. He was home in a million ways.

"How about that one?" She said pointing to the right of the bookshelf.

Cassian looked at the red cover and the words etched in bold font. Smirking to himself, he grabbed the hardcover. Picking her up and settling her in his lap, Nesta curled around him. The baby sweetly protected in the middle of their love.

"You _would_ pick this one."

Nesta's wicked grin made his stomach clench. _Later, they'd get to that later_. They had all the time in the world.

He began to read to her, making sure to pause when everything erupted in drama, gasped when the plot twist twisted just enough. Laughed at the funny parts and pressed his lips to the side of her head when a scene hit him just right.

Cassian knew she liked it when he read aloud. If only for her own amusement, he would do it every time.

"He licked her where!?"

Nesta's laugh made his own shine upon his face, a million tiny sunflowers erupting where his heart should have been.

He looked at her then, truly looked at her as he had done so many times before. The youthful freckles painted on her face, her cheekbones soaring high from the tilt of her lips, the way her eyes made him rejoice a little bit more than usual. Everything about her was a miracle.

"I don't know why you insist on reading these, I'm right here Nes." Cassian lifted his arms, gesturing to all of him.

He knew staying in bed all day wasn't what she wanted. Knew she would rather be useful, doing something productive and valuable. Cassian had reminded her many times that she was plenty useful. She was carrying their love in her tiny body. There was nothing more valuable than that.

He held her tightly, mindful of their little one. Squeezing just enough so she knew he was there, cradling her safe to his chest.

"I could do it better, you know." He whispered in her ear, a brush against the sweet flush of her skin.

She stared at him, raining days meeting flecks of gold. Nesta could stare at him forever, he'd be happy with that alone. But she leaned in and touched her lips to his. Warm like the love she gave him.

Their lips danced and danced, keeping in tune with the rhythm of their heartbeats. Until Nesta pulled away abruptly and gasped.

The gesture on her face made the steady beat of his heart race like thunder. He could feel the panic rise in his chest, but she merely smiled at him as if a gate had been pushed wide open.

Nesta took his hand in hers, the pulse through her wrist warming the ice that had seeped into his shirt. She held it towards her, gentle and soft. Words he learned to described Nesta once he knew how big her heart was. She laid his hand on the sweet swell of her stomach.

"Can you feel her?" She whispered.

Could he feel the love, she meant, the breath, the beating, the life centered in the palm of his hand. Because when he laid his hand on her, all he could feel was a soft kick, and a rush of emotion threatened to burst out of him right there.

He couldn't possibly tell her, couldn't possibly voice aloud, that it wasn't the fire that filled the house with warmth and sunshine. It was the very laughter that sprung out of her mouth, as if she was the only dream amidst the nightmare he had called his life. That she had given him the only thing he had ever dreamed about.

Centered in the room, with the fire burning bright, their little family nestled in the arm chair made his heart swell with a love he could never tame. A love he'd live for.

It was all he needed.

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 **This is my large nessian one-shot compilation. I challenged myself to write one fanfic a day for the next 30 days, so wish me luck and send me prompts! You are all amazing and I hope you all have wonderful summers and days ahead.**

 **PS this is actually really hard... why did I want to do this.**


	3. To the Beat of His Heart

**Chapter 3: To the Beat of His Heart**

 **"Once Upon Another Time" by Sara Bareilles**

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Nesta could feel the beat of his heart, the sound pounding in her skull. She could feel his rapid breathing, his troubled worry an inch away from her fingertips. She paced around the room, trying to itch a scratch that was entirely out of reach. Her fists clenched, leaving half-moons on the skin of her palms. She wouldn't have been surprised if she drew blood.

Her mind clutched the pain, grieved with it. One minute she was pacing, the next she was crouched low. Her hands pulled her hair. Her breathing turned rapid and her chest moved up and down, up and down, up and down again, until she was sure no air was reaching her lungs.

She felt the string, felt it tighten and pull. She tried to grasp at its ends, to reach for the tightrope of promise, tried to hold on for all she could.

It ruptured anyway.

There were many days she had decided to stay in the comfort of the dark, to dwell alone in her room. Safe and sound from the people who would only asked questions. Questions she didn't know how to answer.

But now, as the light from her window slowly faded, she still could not feel him. Could not hear his laugh in the back of her mind, could not feel the comfort and self-assurance that always caressed her back with agile fingers. She couldn't even hear his heartbeat.

Even though she was safer confined to her room, even though her family was safer when she was confined to her room, Nesta couldn't stop the air escaping from her lungs.

She ran before she knew where she was going. Ran and didn't stop. Past hallway after hallway, jumbling past pictures she was sure Feyre must have painted. She could have sworn she saw Cerridwen and Nuala's shocked look from the corner of her eyes as she ambled forth and steadfast.

She did not look back once.

Nesta almost tripped as she gathered in the living room. Feyre seated, paint brush in hand, and Elain, Elain with her flour stained cheeks kneading dough on the counter. She must have looked like she felt, because they saw her and jumped to their feet.

The concern in their gaze was too warm for the heat of her cheeks. She could only stare at them, while her heart tried to make room in her tightening chest.

Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but the door burst open and so did her heart. But the person she was hoping for wasn't standing in front of her. Rhysand and Azriel walked in, with Cassian nowhere in sight. A voice inside of her whispered he was gone. Gone forever.

She could feel the hollowness of her throat making it difficult to speak, to swallow. The wetness dripped from her cheeks and she made no effort in wiping it away, how she proclaimed herself was not important enough to ignore the cold cries of night.

She grabbed on to the lapels of Rhysand's coat, saw the furrowed brows and his violet eyes searching for any sign of injury. He looked at Feyre, but she shook her head and all Nesta could think was that they were telling each other the news. He wasn't coming home.

"Where is he?" She whispered, tears threatening to make an ocean where there was only a puddle.

But she couldn't stop the trembling, as if the Earth was crumbling beneath her feet and there was only a ledge to stand on. Her legs shook from the sheer effort of standing when all she wanted to do was fall into the endless pit of twilight.

The great beast she hid inside finally cracked from the weight of her world.

"Where is he?" She yelled, screamed to anyone who'd listen. To the wind, to the house, to the people before her.

All she wanted was an answer. She almost felt guilty for never giving one of her own. For never saying what she felt, for never giving more than she took. For never being enough.

"Where is he?" She whispered, voice all too quiet for the stillness of the room. She fell to her knees as the terror punched her in the gut.

"Where's Cassian?" She cried.

In the distance, she could see Feyre and Rhys exchanging a worried glance, her own sister coming to calm her fit of worry. All Nesta could hear was the sound of a name echoing in her mind, screaming for an answer. Just one.

 _Cassian. Cassian. Cassian_

She grasped the front of her gown, clenching her fists and the fabric. Anything to relieve the pain gripping her sanity in a lock so tight it could break.

"Nesta." Feyre answered, not the name she wanted. "It's okay."

Her voice was soft as she rubbed her back, but the fear held her by the collar, strong and unbreakable.

"Cassian's fine. He's just a little late is all."

Nesta didn't believe her, she didn't feel the string pulled tightly, did not feel it pulse with life and sincerity. She could not feel its hope. She didn't have hope.

When she was ready to give up, to give her whole life to the void of her darkness, he walked through the door. She swore the fear had let go of her neck.

Nesta rushed forward, ignoring the deep frown of her sister's eyebrows looking at them. She simply encircled her arms around him, breathing in the pine and fresh air. She rested her head on his chest, felt the steady thumping. One beat after another, a sweet and glorious sound.

Her tears didn't stop leaking, it rushed as if a dam had broken into two pieces. There was no stopping the current from seeping through every surface in its path.

"I couldn't feel you. I couldn't feel you." She chanted, over and over. In tune to the rhythm of his breathing.

Cassian held her closer, enclosing his arms around her so tight she'd feel his warmth. Feel his protection. His large hands glided through her hair, gentle and calming, coaxing her racing heart to match his.

Nesta's eyes drifted close. Energy dissipated from her rampant thoughts, lulled to sleep by his smell and the string pulled oh so tight.

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He carried her to her room, held her with so much care he wanted to keep her forever. Cassian didn't want to leave her alone, in her dark, cold room, when his was a mile away. Her cheeks glistened and he wanted to kiss them away, soft like the silk of her hair.

He had ignored the other's looks, didn't say a word, voice a thought beyond the mention of taking Nesta to her room. He didn't want to hear what they had to say, couldn't handle the truth even if he dared.

Nesta fit into his arms, was molded to fit just right. He wanted his warmth to seep into her cold skin, held her tighter for that reason only. He promised himself that was the only reason.

He laid her down, ever so gently. Tucked her in until he was sure she would not be cold in the night. Even after her breathing evened out, he made no move to leave. He blinked. Once. Twice. Cassian couldn't even contemplate the idea that she was his, that they belonged to each other.

He shook the thought away quickly. Nesta belonged to no one, not to any man or woman who graced the planet. Nesta was strong and capable, _just like him._

He didn't dwell on that thought either, just watched the shadow of her eyelashes dance on her cheekbones. He could hear the rain coming from outside. Softly, like a gentle breeze.

Nesta's breathing remained calm, steady. He would check on her in the morning, make sure she was as Nesta as Nesta could be.

But like the pitter-patter of the rain, he didn't want to go away.

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 **This is actually really hard, I don't know why I challenged myself during finals week… (shrugs)**


	4. The Efficiency of Pants

**Chapter 4: The Efficiency of Pants**

 **"Till I Collapse" by Eminem**

 **Try as I might, I will never stop writing Nesta fighting, kicking, and punching her way through an Illyrian war camp. It was just meant to be.**

 **Summary: Nesta finally wants to train and does she ever.**

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Nesta liked to watch him train.

It wasn't for the muscles that threatened to rip out of his chest, _if he was wearing one_ , or the bronze gleam that made even the most celibate sweat. It wasn't the hair that spilled from his tie, or the way his chest moved rapidly, up and down, to compete with his racing heartbeat. It wasn't even for the smirk she saw dance its way along his face when he noticed her wandering gaze.

She wasn't immune to male attractiveness, not when that male was 6 feet of sweat and allure, but it wasn't the reason he had caught her attention.

Nesta watched him for the way he moved his feet. The way they moved to counter attacks, instill fear, and prove he was the greater, the faster, the stronger. The different weapons he chose to use, from his glimmering sword, polished to rival the sheen of diamonds, to bow and arrows, sharp enough to cut one.

Most of the time, he used nothing but bare fists and bruising limbs. She liked those days the most.

Strength was earned, embedded in the hardworking and the brave, and she wanted to be brave, fast, strong, and mighty. So, she observed someone who was.

They may have joked about her focused looks, her rapt attention, the scrunch of her eyebrows as she considered the convenience of knives, but she did not dare look away.

Nesta yearned to know the ins and outs of the greatest weapon she'd ever gained, _something_ that rivaled the strength of her mind and the tenacity of her will.

They would think what they would, they could laugh all they wanted, but Nesta watched Cassian for _more_ than just his pretty face.

* * *

The pants made her knees tremble. Made her skin itch far more than the scratchy fabric of her gowns. But Nesta had made up her mind, and it was too late to change either. She had little time to argue with herself and she might not have won that battle.

For far too long Nesta had wandered aimlessly in the confines of her room. Being trapped in her body wasn't enough and she had decided to trap her mind too. But just like everything else in her life, the silence bored her immensely. Even the walls seemed to scream, _get out_.

Cut somewhere between pride and propriety, the pants stared at her mockingly, lifted an eyebrow to her clear disdain. Putting on pants was the first challenge she'd conquer. The first in a long line of sacrifices. It was all she had anyway.

Nesta walked towards the sounds of laughter, tried to ignore the fidgety movements of her hands. Refused to grasp the fabric pulling at her legs. She was a new and changed being, she could be anything. Pants would not change who she was or what she wanted.

The laughter quieted as she made her way to the dining room, stood in front of the table as if she had owned the very ground it stood on. She swore even the birds stopped chirping, something she learned to ignore even if it did make the guilt creep up her spine.

They all looked at her, curious eyes hidden on friendly faces. Some part of her hoped they didn't say anything, didn't ask why her sudden need to change made itself so prominent. She didn't know what she'd say if they had.

Her gaze landed on the one she needed, wanted if she were being honest, but Nesta had far too many things to accomplish before she acknowledged that crusade.

Cassian sat, a plate full of food in front of him. The butter knife stood for the ready, waiting to eat or to slaughter. She knew he had mastered both. Picking a fight was the last thing on her mind, but she wasn't against finishing one if he favored more of their verbal sparring.

Nesta sidled up to him, in front and ready. Strong like her stubborn will. He could smile, mock her if he wanted to, but she was done playing games she couldn't win.

"Train me." She spoke, a quiet demand to go along the stoic nature of her face.

"Really?" He asked, eyebrows raised and curiosity blooming. His back straightened at her silent indignation. The tilt of his lips enraged her just enough to continue.

"I'm not wearing pants for nothing." She said, coldly. It was the only response she could muster with her anxiety consuming her.

Cassian stood up, towering over her small frame. One of his intimidation tactics no doubt, but she wasn't afraid of him, couldn't be even if she tried. The gentle smile that grew on his face told her he knew it too. It made her so annoyingly angry, she wanted to punch him.

She'd get the chance, too, as he braced his arm forward, leading her toward her next defiant endeavor.

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"50 more."

Nesta had to resist the urge to punch _him_ in the face. She wanted to refuse simply because she was tired. Any more punches and her arms might have fallen off. The act of repressing her incessant need to roll her eyes became a challenge even she couldn't win.

But losing was _not_ an option, even if this _wasn't_ a game.

So, she continued, punch after punch, weapon after weapon. Feeling the days drain into weeks. Every day in the training room, sparring and fighting and learning. She had come to enjoy it even, look forward to the throbbing, ache of her muscles.

"Again." She demanded.

"Again." She yelled.

"Again." She begged.

Every day, until the sound of her rushed breathing and her racing heartbeat drowned out the screams.

* * *

She saw the fear, sensed it, smelled it. She had lived in it all her life. They looked at her as If she had grown four limbs. A rare oddity on display for their amusement.

Nesta was not interested in amusing anyone.

They had come here as they always had, to check on progress and deliver orders. But Nesta was fed up with their act of defiance. They would not defy her.

"What's it going to take?" She questioned, facing Lord Devlon as her equal, a favor on her part.

The amount of times they yelled and screamed did nothing to persuade the Illyrians to train their women, didn't give a chance for those that wanted to.

There was something about being trapped that made the ringing in her ears get louder and louder. Knowing that there were women who could fly but were cemented to the ground made her anger grow. Knowing that they grew up with warriors only to be shunned by them made her rage simmer.

"You are not Illyrian, you cannot command us." He spit.

"Then make me Illyrian!" She yelled, ice and wrath consuming the grey of her eyes.

He didn't mock her like she thought he would, didn't laugh in her face. Only looked and contemplated. His stance calm and sedentary.

"Women can't do those sorts of things. They are meant for something else entirely."

" _Our_ women are meant for something else entirely."

He tried to make her understand, to give up this reckless and ignorant endeavor. But she was not the one who lacked information and he was not the one caged.

"I'll fight them all. One by one."

She stepped closer to him, to his guards, to his warriors. Made herself known, present, aware. Nesta would not let them look at her like she was benighted.

"Send me your strongest men, your fastest, and I will still win."

She needed them to know, needed them to understand. The fear of falling was achingly real for those who could not fly.

* * *

War had always been a bird too far away to catch, and the brutality was something she had never wanted. But standing in the middle of the arena, Nesta finally understood the idea. It was the calm, so still and silent that even her heartbeat seemed too loud for this place.

Maybe that was the reason war favored no heartbeats at all.

She stood in the middle, waiting for the battle. The fight was already inside of her.

Nesta might have wondered why she decided she wanted to train all those months ago, may have even called herself insane. But now she knew. She had the choice, she'd give others the same.

"Are you sure about this?" Cassian said warily.

He didn't voice any derision on her choice. He respected her decision to fight, warrior to warrior. Still she always sensed his gaze when she wasn't looking. The sweet, bitter protection she shook off with every effort. Cassian had to know what it'd take.

"Do you doubt me?" She said, ice in her veins. Nesta didn't want to know why it mattered so much, why she wanted his approval.

"No. I have every faith that you can kill them all, but the control is something I question."

He looked cautious, but not towards her, not to her power or her strength. He wasn't afraid of her, couldn't be if he tried. Cassian knew something about the anger. The way the all-consuming rage did not stifle until everyone had been beaten and pained.

Until the only pain left was the one on the inside.

He stared at her and Nesta tried to look away, but his eyes were a song that pulled her in and did not let go. She could not pull away.

"Knock them dead, but don't kill them."

Don't kill his family, he meant. Even if he was bastard born, tossed to the wolves before he could even fend for himself, he still loved his people. She'd protect them for that reason alone.

But not the ones who dared to touch her.

* * *

She stomped towards them, marched with an army of grace and grandeur. Breathed them all in, the fear, the doubt, the rage. She feasted on it.

They looked at her with mockery, bravado even she knew could crack beneath her fingertips. They had made a deal, and she did not lose. On the contrary, she had gained the whole world.

"My prize?" She asked.

Nesta didn't have to tell them what she wanted, didn't need to show them the aim of her ferocity. It clearly written in the lines of her face, in the fire of her eyes.

"You can have my son." He answered. An advantageous proposal, but only for him. Strong alliances made strong sons. She wasn't interested in stocking an army.

Lord Devlon held out his arms, pride glowing from the stiffness of his spine. As if his son was the greatest gift he could ever bestow on a woman, who longed for nothing but a man at her side and a warmth in her bed. Nesta wanted nothing of the sort.

"Your son. I should be so flattered." She said without an ounce of praise or conviction.

The purse of her lips and the steel of her irises told them she was not so forgiving, the way their chauvinistic tendencies and their lustful gazes saw nothing but meat.

"I don't prefer weak men."

Her gaze traveled around the room, around the men she defeated with the flick of her wrist. Gone, like the pride they held in their bodies.

"I want the girls. Trained. I'll even do it myself."

She could almost smell the fear coming from the slow tilt of her lips. A witch, a bitch, and everything in between.

"Impossible." He sneered. "They will never be as strong as you."

Maybe it was the darkness painting the sky in night or the shadow that formed along Nesta's face, but she saw Lord Devlon brace himself for the fight. Stepping back as if he had touched fire and it had burned his dignity. The softness of her voice made its way across the corridor, alighting the room in flames and fury.

"Neither will you."

They may have grimaced from her appearance alone, but Nesta could only feel the sweet tang of victory. It was enough.

Her stride to the door was as inviting as a viper slithering away. The seductive rush of triumph was too exhilarating to stop and Nesta wanted to feel it all. She wanted to see them try and stop her.

"Bring the women to the rings." She commanded, voice booming like thunder. "Training starts now."

* * *

 **I'm so sleep deprived, finals suck, so this may or may not make any sense. But I mean I hope you enjoyed it, I liked writing it. But anyways more to come, and more fluff! but also more angst. Not sure which one's next….**


	5. Can You Hear the Silence?

**Chapter 5: Can You Hear the Silence?**

* * *

 ** **Summary: After ACOWAR, Cassian's first talk with Nesta after Hybern****

 ** **Thanks for all the kindness I've received with these one-shots! I'm glad y'all are liking them.****

* * *

Sometimes the days were a little too long, the sun was a little too hot, and the pain was a little too much to overcome. Too often, Cassian found himself deeply engrossed in the patterns of his sheets and the softness of his pillows. As if some weight had landed on his back and refused to release him from melancholy stripes and blues.

Sometimes the deep dark of night refused to be removed with the sun, refused to let go of the nightmarish twilight he found himself lying in. The silence around him swallowed his despair in the ticking of clocks and the rustling of pans in the kitchen. Even the steady thumping of his heart didn't seem loud enough to drown out the noise.

Even if Cassian somehow managed to get up, to get ready for the day ahead, sometimes, he didn't know the purpose- didn't see why it was important enough.

He'd sit with the rest of his family, eat breakfast, talk and laugh and joke and pretend that he wasn't dying inside. He'd fake the smile, he'd fake the pleasure, he'd fake the rigidness of his spine until some part of it was the truth. Until he could look in the mirror and see a bit of the spark light back in his eyes.

It was the only solace he could find.

He'd hear the screams of fallen soldiers, their moaning of pain, the last gulp of air as one his friends succumbed to the cold beyond. He'd hear it in Mor's laughter, Azriel's quiet shadows, Amren's snarky replies, and Rhys's dark comedy. He'd hear it in the whispers of the wind and in Cerridwen and Nuala's steady humming.

He couldn't get it out of his head.

The lies became the only solid ground he could stand on, rely on. He'd done it for years, decades even. And then one day he couldn't. Because she'd look at him, like she knew- knew he was a liar, a sham, a fake disguised as a warrior in battle armor.

 _He didn't want to lie to her._

Except he did. Every single day he refused to look at her, to talk to her, to share something with her was a day he pretended she didn't make his heart beat unsteadily. It rattled like his shaky breath.

And when the war was over and they could finally sit down without the weight of the world on their shoulders, he still felt the weight of his heart- bared the pain that he had one and others didn't. That he'd laugh and his comrades couldn't

Nesta wouldn't leave her room, wouldn't say hello to him or anyone, wouldn't grace them with her heated gazes and her callous attitude. She didn't make him forget. He almost hated her for it.

Except Cassian didn't think he could hate her at all. She was a part he couldn't let go, a string tied to each of their fingers, pulling them where the other went. Never leaving, never parting, never ceasing the rush that came from the company- the need for someone to understand.

Cassian would wait outside her bedroom when everyone had come and gone. He'd rest his forehead on the ingrained wood, rough and smooth. A strong barrier against the emotions that raged through him, threatening to overcome him and pounce.

He wanted to hear her voice. He didn't care if she was berating him, mocking him, or silently persisting in the corner of the room. He wanted to see her. Cassian didn't know what she felt. The death of her father and the death of her sanity wrapped in one blow of a sword.

He just wanted to be there for her. A selfishness that grew until it was a force to be reckoned with, for it was those feelings that he couldn't control. While his eyes were closed, he imagined her piercing eyes wild and brash, tendrils of flames alighting his blood in icy blues and deep reds.

She never opened the door. Not once. Even if Cassian was sure she could hear his breathing as much as he could hear hers. Their Heart beats a steady rhythm to calm the screaming of their secrecy.

She never opened the door.

Until one day she did.

He had stepped back when the door swung open. Stepped back and breathed her in. Eyes blown by the image of her, her presence. Nesta simply stared at him, face to face, eye to eye. Waiting for the wind to blow, for something to come out of his mouth.

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything." He said quietly, unsure.

"I don't."

It was a dismissal if he ever heard one, but like everything, Cassian tried his luck. He couldn't leave, when he'd just seen her. She wasn't a ghost, there one minute and gone the next. He wouldn't let her become one.

"Are you- are you doing okay?"

A stupid question, he wasn't even doing okay. He wanted to scold to himself for those very words.

"No."

"You know we all miss having you around. Feyre and Elain keep trying to talk to you. Even Amren seems bored."

Her eyes held no pain, no grief. They held no fond memories or happy thoughts. Just grey like the room around them.

"You know, they say war changes you."

The harsh, bitter ice of her eyes made his heart freeze over. Made him want to enclose his arms around her, to let the warmth seep through.

"I don't think you've changed at all."

Her quiet voice silenced the screaming, even if another started up again. Somewhere different, somewhere inside of him. His heart just kept thumping, louder and louder, until it was ringing in his ears. Until he could hear nothing else, but _liar, liar, liar_.

"You're still just the wolf. Always pretending and never getting anything but tears in your wings."

The stinging of his eyes burned far worse than the words she threw at him, worse than the angry purse of her lips or her defiant will.

"You're just grieving." He told her, he told himself. "You're just tired."

Nesta stared at him, blue turning to silver, lips red like the blood spilled on the ground before him. The blood that shattered into a million pieces of glass.

"Maybe, but you've been grieving your whole life."

The words a giant fist to the pit of his stomach, aching to hit again and again. It made sure he would never get up from the ground where he belonged. Low like gravel, dirt, and dust. The very edge of his being wanted to spring up and run- run from this mad woman who couldn't be tamed.

"Why do you care?" He spat with madness he thought he had trampled long ago.

"Because I'm a liar, too."

Soft like the pillow he didn't want to get up from, the comforter that tugged on his tired limbs, the brush of death on the battlefield he often fought on. Soft and comfortable and warm. Like a friend who felt his pain.

"Someday, we're going have to tell the truth."

 _But not today._

 _No, not today._

* * *

 **I'm not gonna lie, I've been in a really "what'd the point? Everything means nothing" mood, so this fic obviously wasn't very happy. I make no promises but maybe next time it'll be fluff. This actually has a companion to it that's happier so I'll get to it eventually.**


	6. A Light So Bright

**A Light So Bright**

* * *

 **A short one-shot, Nesta's nightmares**

* * *

Nesta always wondered why she wound up in the Night Court when she had always hated the darkness. She'd often awaken from her slumber with pools of dark liquid drowning her, threatening the very sweet hopes she held dear. It would wrap around her dreams and hold her sanity in tight fists, as if it somehow knew she had scorned the very cauldron it was made from.

She remembered the branches scraping along the windows when the whole house was silent. When she was but a month shy of twelve. The branches would pound across her room, yelling for her to open or they'd come and catch her. Nesta would hide in the closet, curl up in a tight ball until the walls cradled her gently and hugged her back to sleep.

Every night after, when her parents tucked her in and Feyre and Elain were fast asleep, she'd clench her eyes together, swearing that if she never saw the darkness it would never see her either. So tightly shut that not even the night could pry her eyes open. And when she awoke to deep still purples and blues, she hid in the closet until reds shined in the back of her eyelids.

Nesta had always wondered what the fear stemmed from. It was not irrational to be scared, it was just irrational to fear nothing. But it was always in the back of her mind- _Always, always be afraid_.

It was the sound of crushing glass that made the fear tame, compared to that that overthrew her. The crushing of glass and the silence. The still calm darkness that urged her to take her sisters and hide. She had never been one to play with fire.

Nesta had tipped toed to the other beds. Briskly shaking them both, putting her finger to her mouth, and urging them to move. Feyre was still small enough so Nesta had carried her to the closet. The weight of her little sister was no match for the weight of the terror that consumed her.

The little closet pilfered with midnight and worry became the shelter housing three little girls huddled together. Small arms encircling them and twilight blanketing them in the still calm of the night. She didn't know why the darkness comforted her then, when so many times it had chased her away- why the very thing that frightened her somehow eased her pain.

After that night, when the light reached the crack of the door, Nesta didn't feel as if it had saved her from the perils wrapped around her thumping heart. Elain and Feyre had fallen asleep, while she had sat waiting for danger. It never came.

Hours later she would understand why the sudden need to hide was so prominent in her- why the sound of footsteps, crashing, and grunts made her realize the true trepidation of night. Her father had never been the same after they had crippled him.

So, when Nesta's eyes burst open to the sterile bleakness of her room and the darkness shed light on the rapid movements of her chest, she only wanted to hide. The night was a dangerous thing, a thief waiting to steal her fortune and her pride, an enemy ready to strike.

Her gaze quickly found that door, the one that had always sheltered her when there was no one else. Her body shivered from the cold or the fear she didn't know. Nesta ran to comfort, ran like a lost child who found her mother. So fast, the darkness could not catch her.

Nesta didn't know how long she had stayed in that tiny closet, stayed with only the rancorous beat of her heart and the screams she kept hearing from the nightmare that awoke her. She just wanted it to stop, all of it, every little rushed breath and shake of her hands.

She clenched her eyes together, clenched her fists together, until the whole world could hear only her heartbeat. No more death, no more fear, no more anything, nothing at all. Nesta just wanted to breathe again.

And suddenly a bright light made its way through the crack beneath the door, easing the shadows away from her tight fists and delivering sweet pardons on her behalf. Nesta didn't know how long she had stayed in that closet, but for once, she didn't mind the intrusion. An angel waited on the other side.

"Come on, Nes." He spoke softly, gently.

He held out his hands towards her, and despite what it meant for her, even though she was sure she would regret it in the morning, she took a hold of Cassian's hands and did not let go.

He pulled her up off the ground, shook off the dust and held her close to his chest. And even if reds did not drive out the blues that hid her from the world, she swore she saw a light encasing him. A light so bright she could breathe again.

A light so bright, she could finally feel again.

* * *

 **Happy Reading, I hope you like it!**


	7. I'll Never Let You Go

**I'll Never Let You Go**

* * *

 ** **Nessian Fluff, this time (I'm serious!)****

 ** **Inspired by "A Heavy Heart" by Anthony Greninger****

* * *

Somewhere between space and time, the stars worshiped the night. Dancing atop indigo and violet skies, along rivers of oblivion, and endless chasms of color. But the stars would never be more magnificent then the light that only grew as they held each other.

They were sitting on an armchair, an old rickety little thing. He was much too big for it, and his wings barely fit between the cushions. She was much too small for it, her body barely _covered_ the cushions. And yet, that old rickety little thing was their favorite possession in the place they called their home.

Nesta was sitting on his lap, and Cassian held her to him, as if getting up was something far, far away. She did not mind in the least. He rubbed her back and she nestled her head between his neck, nuzzling her nose into his soft skin and his heady scent.

It came as no surprise that the chair had become their favorite spot. After all, they had learned a long time ago, that the more worn it was, the more beautiful it became.

They had lost count of how many hours had passed, if time had passed at all. Their arms, their legs, their souls had remained entwined, tied and knotted, never to be unraveled again. They did not have to say words, they did not have to declare their love. They simply stared at each other, lost to the world and to the universe.

She didn't want to ruin the peace, didn't want to talk to loud when even the birds hushed to hear their heartbeats, but her heart always wanted to speak to the other half that would listen. Nesta whispered it to him, so soft she was sure it would have been carried on the wind before it had finally reached his ears.

"I've always wanted to be married."

His hazel eyes bore into hers, but he did not say a word. Nesta had forgotten what it felt like to be foolish, until the words toppled out of her lips, but he would never judge her. She would remember that sentiment faster than she would remember her name.

"I didn't think it was possible."

Cassian let her speak, let her voice every ounce of the thoughts she held so dear. He didn't interrupt her once, and she had always loved him for it. She grew up with many people who were far too willing to interrupt her.

"I hated men and I was sure they hated me."

He pursed his lips and she knew he wanted to take her memories away, all the nightmares, all the grievances. But they were her scars, just like the ones that ran along his body.

"I wanted the fairytale. A white dress, a long veil, roses in my hand as I faced the one I loved. I wanted my father to walk me down the aisle."

She looked towards their entwined hands in her lap. The hands that never let go.

"And just like sand, it slipped right through my fingertips."

Nesta leaned her head on his, until their foreheads touched. Something about the feel of his skin always made her feel stronger, more capable somehow. Cassian took one look at her, and nuzzled his nose with hers. Her small smile was all he needed. He leaned up, kissing her nose. Her small laugh scared the demons away.

Cassian had always felt as if Nesta was a walking flame. A person who embodied the sun and every bit of strength held within. But Nesta was first and foremost, an independent human being. She felt more than anybody. So, when she leaned into him, playing with his hands resting between them, he cradled her gently. He grasped her face with his large hands, and held her gaze. The skies had never been clearer.

"One day, I'm going to marry you."

Her eyes widened as she took in his words, but Cassian was just beginning. It was a dream of his as much as it was hers.

"You'll be wearing a white dress, and you'll be no more beautiful than you always are, but you'll still take my breath away."

Her eyes shined, hopeful, and beautiful, and alive.

"Elain will arrange the flowers. Since, she's the only one who's good at that sort of thing. And Feyre will plan the whole thing. It'll all be perfect and somehow so _us_ we won't believe it.

Az and Rhys will be cracking jokes and laughing at me as we wait. The glass of whiskey in my hands will be shaking, from how nervous I am. And Mor will give me advice, even if I'm sure she'd given it to me before."

Cassian shrugged at the truth in his words. He knew his family like the back of his hands.

"I'll want to see you, and I'll be so frightened every time I think of going to your room. You'll say it's bad luck, and I won't take you seriously. But I know that it means a lot to you, so I won't push it."

Her lips rose at the pout that formed on his lips. He had always been a whiner.

"I'll be waiting for you at the end, and every step you take will feel like an eternity to me. I'll want you by side in an instant, but I'll savor every moment that I get to look at you."

His fingers glide along her ivory skin, a sweet contrast to the tan of his. They had been brought together by stardust and an infinite amount of possibility.

"Our family will surround us, everyone we have ever loved. Even if they're not all there, even if some of them can't be there, they'll all be sitting and watching, surrounding us with their love."

Her eyes swarmed with unshed tears and her heart was both heavy and light. As if the world was on her shoulders but balloons were strapped to her back. She was both ready to fly away and never leave the ground.

"I'll say how much I love you, because I love you more than the stars above me. I'll say that I don't want to live without you, because I can't imagine a life where I'm happy without you. I'll say that I know you hate the cauldron for what it took from you, but how I thank it every day for the miracle in front of me."

His soft smile awoke a love so fierce, she would go to war to protect it. But right now, she only wanted to hold him.

"Your eyes will be looking at me, like they are now. Shining, big and bright. And when the priestess says I can kiss you, I'll look at you, asking for permission. I'll never do anything you don't want to do. You'll probably roll your eyes at me, and when you lean up to kiss me I'll probably hold my breath. I'll probably feel like passing out, but I'll hold you and kiss you, while the others complain that we're taking forever and to get a room. We'll ignore them like we always do."

Cassian's lips touched hers softly, gently. Coaxing hers into revealing her deepest secrets. But he already knew them. He knew everything about her.

"I'll never want to let you go."

Nesta may have lived where the stars shined brighter than any light known, but she swore it would never compare to the light of his eyes and the warmth in his heart. Her body couldn't take it any longer, she just needed to be closer. The rickety, old couch wasn't small enough. She wanted to hold him forever if she could, protect him, keep him, love him for the rest of her days.

He whispered a prayer into her skin, tattooed it into her neck. She wanted to hear it again and again, as long as she lived.

"I'll never let you go."

Bonus:

Red was the first color she saw when she awoke the next morning. It wasn't from love, though heart was filled with it and it wasn't from anger, though Cassian wasn't next to her. An oddity, when he was the one to always complain that she got up too early.

It was the softness of the petals, a delicate rose greeting her good morning and a happy afternoon. It lied on her bedside table, and a harsh white stood right next to it.

Nesta sat up and looked around her, listening for thudding or curses, but nothing. The quietness alit Nesta in flames and caution. She took the note and read the scribbles painted along its body.

 _Good morning, beautiful._

 _I know you, so I know you'll look at this before you look at the rose. You are my best friend, you are my soulmate, you are everything I have ever dreamed of. Yesterday, I told you I'd marry you. Today, will you do me the honor of being my wife?_

 _All my love,_

 _Hopefully your fiancé, Cassian_

 _P.S. Look at the rose_

She rushed to grab the flower, and like clockwork, along its stem- a ring. Nesta swore she couldn't breathe. The ring fell right into her palm.

Nesta stared at it with wide eyes and a racing heartbeat. She held it between her fingers as if it would somehow fly away.

A moment later, Cassian walked in, breakfast in his hands. He had barely set it down, before she was burrowing towards him. He caught her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His arms once again encircled her and she once again held him close.

She didn't have to voice aloud her answer to him.

 _She'd never let him go either._

* * *

 **This was so easy to write which surprised me cause fluff is not easy to write. But idk maybe I was sick of sad stuff. I hope you liked it, we always need more fluff in the world**


	8. Carry You

He Never Was Again

"Carry You" Ruelle

* * *

The screaming sounded like music to his ears. The sound of lions roaring and mountains crumbling to dust. She was untamable, like her mother.

She was cradled in his arms, covered by midnight blue and stars. He touched the red of her cheeks with his fingertips. Soft, as if he'd break her from his calloused hands.

Holding her was different than holding steel blades or sharpened axes, but no less dangerous.

Cassian looked at her tiny form swaddled in love, protected in honor. His eyes wandered, to the tuffs of her golden hair to the imprints of her feet kicking the blanket away. He looked at her with clarity only reserved for the battles he needed to stay alive for and the quiet nights he spent staring at Nesta while she slept. Reserved for times he needed to remember he was alive and his heart, still beating.

Holding his daughter was like holding the Earth and watching it spin and spin and spin. Cassian could already say she was his whole world.

Nesta was lying on the bed dressed in a white night gown, clean like bitter snow. The woman who put her faith in him, when all he did was break his promises. Smiling at his dazedness and flushed with exertion.

She urged him over, and who was he to resist the thread so tightly woven around them?

Luck had never been his friend, had played cruel jokes and laughed as he twisted and faltered. He was born unlucky, a bastard, a nobody. Cassian wasn't a nobody to her.

It must have been the look in his eyes― the cloudy, distant look that made her pull on his heart.

"You deserve this." She whispered, throat dry from the screams that poured out of her moments ago. She reached a hand towards his; he clasped it and swore he would never let go.

"Don't ever believe you don't deserve this."

Her words only made him cradle the baby closer to him, lulled by the steady beat of his chest. He didn't always believe those words to be true, deep down where the vultures still pecked at his sanity. They comforted him just the same, a lullaby to his broken past and the dreams right in front of him.

He titled his head towards Nesta's, kissed her on the forehead, and said nothing. Words weren't necessary when they shared the same heart.

She reached towards the bundle, and he placed their daughter in her waiting. He watched her and the baby, the two loves of his life. The people who made him the luckiest person in the world, bastard or no.

Their daughter yawned and Nesta cooed, rocking herself gently. Only minutes old and she already held the world in her tiny fists, a world that was going to be much kinder and more loving than he had ever felt as a child. _That_ he promised to the cauldron, the stars, his mate, and the dirt he was raised by.

"Will you let the others know?" She whispered, looking at him with the bright eyes he dreamt about at night.

He nodded, forcing himself to sever the connection that pulled him towards her, a rope that tethered him to them completely.

Cassian walked out of the room without ever taking his eyes off his girls.

* * *

One day he was a little boy with dusty boots and tattered clothes, eating scraps that people threw at the dogs. The next day he was a prince, taken in by a kind woman who embodied what he thought the sun would smell like. Something earthy, and floral, and warm.

A family found him broken, a family put him back together. One day he was alone, and the next day he never was again.

Cassian looked at all of them, his friends. Their eyes shining as much as his must have been. Smiling like the world was right and good and pure. Held together by the strings woven deep in their hearts and the hugs they gave in congratulation.

He wasn't a nobody to them.

"Thank you." He mouthed sure that no sound came out of his lips. Maybe he was saying it to the universe as much as he was saying it to his friends, the family who chose him.

It was Mor that shook her head, his praise foolish to her.

"For what?" She asked quietly, her lips turned up.

"For dealing with your foolishness?"

Her eyes twinkled with humor and tears. They had chosen her too.

She shrugged and looked around the room, at all of them.

"We were all meant to be here. Chosen by the stars I think."

They nodded, truth woven between the space of their fingertips. Cassian's cheeks hurt, and his eyes stung. He was amazed that he hadn't been swept away by the sheer force of their love. A love so grand he would have happily drowned in it.

"Thank you… for everything."

 _For giving me everything._

"For caring for us all, each other."

 _For holding me when I was down, for lifting me when I had no wings to do so._

"I know how to care for others now."

 _For making me believe I could be someone more than my bloodstained fists or my muddy palms._

"I don't think you ever had a problem with that, brother." Rhysand proclaimed as his arms wove around him and squeezed. Reassuring and warm and familiar.

"Would you like to meet the newest member of the inner circle?" He asked as he opened the small room nestled in the corner of the house and his heart.

"We've been waiting long enough." He replied.

The room wasn't big enough for his family, his heart, or his love.

* * *

 **I haven't really been writing for this fandom as of late, but I really want to. I miss writing and writing fanfiction and this year was crazy but schools almost over and I have peace. I have the writing bug again, and I really like this fandom even with the discourse (no fandoms perfect). But if your reading this and my fanfics thanks for sticking by me and my terrible patterns of neglect! I really hope you like it.**


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